Free Anastasia Romanov: The Last Grand Duchess #10 by Ann Hood

acronym, you know,” the girl said.
    â€œAn acronym?” Maisie repeated.
    â€œA word created from initials,” the girl explained.
    â€œ
O
.
T
.
M
.
A
.,” Maisie said out loud.
    â€œThe first letter of each of our names!” the girl announced, climbing even higher in the tree.
    â€œOh!” she gasped. “From up here I can see the mountains. You should come see!”
    Maisie hesitated. She wasn’t much of a tree climber.
    The girl scampered down far enough to extend her hand and help Maisie onto the lowest branches.
    â€œI don’t know,” Maisie said, staring up through the leaves into the girl’s chubby face.
    The girl wiggled her fingers for Maisie to take them.
    With a sigh, Maisie relented.
    She grabbed on to the girl’s hand and let her pull her upward until Maisie got her footing.
    Maisie did not like it up there.
    â€œCome on,” the girl said, climbing higher.
    â€œI . . . ,” Maisie began, but the girl wasn’t listening.
    Maisie clumsily put her foot into a knot on the bark of the tree, and tried to lift the other foot onto the next branch.
    But her foot slipped, and in a second she was dangling from a branch, both legs swinging free.
    â€œHelp!” she called.
    The last thing she heard was the girl exclaiming, “Hold on!”
    Then Maisie’s hands let go of the branch, and she plummeted to the ground below.

Chapter Six
    ANASTASIA
    M aisie lay on her back, staring up at the dappled fading light coming through the leaves of the trees. She was aware of distant voices and footsteps approaching. She was aware of the sharp, constant pain in her right arm. And she was aware of the roses surrounding her, their thorns pricking her cheeks and hands. Maisie had fallen directly into a rosebush.
    â€œLook what you’ve done now!” a man was saying in a loud stern voice.
    The girl with the strawberry blond hair and blue eyes appeared above Maisie.
    â€œShe’s not dead!” the girl announced, happily.
    â€œThat’s a relief,” came another girl’s voice.
    Now a second face appeared.
    This girl was very pretty, with pink cheeks and brown hair and the biggest blue eyes surrounded by the longest eyelashes that Maisie had ever seen.
    â€œIt would be very exciting if she were, though, wouldn’t it, Mashka?” the girl asked her.
    A third face joined the others.
    â€œPapa has sent for the doctor,” she said.
    She patted Maisie’s hand. “Once,” the girl said in a confidential tone, “she put a rock inside a snowball and threw it at me. It hit me right here, in the face, and practically knocked me out.”
    The girl seemed like a fairy-tale princess to Maisie. Very tall and regal looking, with thick auburn hair and high cheekbones.
    â€œIt did knock her down,” the first girl said.
    â€œYou cried,” a fourth voice said, and another face appeared above Maisie.
    â€œNo I didn’t!” she protested. Then she laughed. “Maybe a little.”
    The fourth girl was blushing. “What an embarrassment,” she said. “To drop a guest out of a tree. Mama had to go lie down she was so upset.”
    â€œHey!” said the first girl, the one whom Maisie had met earlier.
    Her face came closer to Maisie’s.
    â€œRemember? OTMA?” she asked.
    Maisie nodded.
    â€œThat’s us!” the girl said.
    â€œOlga—” she pointed to the blushing girl.
    â€œTatiana—” she pointed to the regal one.
    â€œMaria—” she pointed to the pretty one.
    The girl grinned impishly.
    â€œAnd me! Anastasia!”
    At that, Maisie burst into tears.
    The four Grand Duchesses looked surprised.
    â€œThere, there,” Olga said.
    But Maisie couldn’t stop crying. Yes, her arm hurt. A lot. But much worse was the realization that these were the Grand Duchesses, the daughters of Tsar Nicholas and Tsarina Alexandra, and that someday in the